Last First Kiss
by deedee920
Summary: Picks up immediately after 2.09 - What if things had gone differently? Sam/Andy 2 shot.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**__** In my mind, this takes place a few days after episode 2.09 leaves off. I still can't decide if I like this or hate it (my opinion changes hourly) but I figured I'd post anyway. Let me know what you think. **_

_**Disclaimer**__**: If I owned Rookie Blue, I'd be busy writing Season 4, instead of fan fic. **_

_**.**_

* * *

.

"Mounted unit training guy asked me out again yesterday. He thought it would make a difference that he's not going to be my instructor anymore, since my rotation ended," Andy tells Traci, her first official morning back at 15th division.

"That's the second time he's asked you out, Andy. I think you should accept," Traci encourages.

"No-o," Andy drawls out while shaking her head in the negative. "No, thank you."

"Why not? You said he was kinda cute, right?"

"Yeah, but… No. I'm off cops, remember? What would I do with a horse cop, anyway Trace?" Andy asks, trying to nix the whole idea.

"Maybe he can further instruct you on your riding skills," Traci says while suggestively wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

Andy rolls her eyes and feigns disgust at the innuendo, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Then she wrinkles her nose and makes a production out of listing his unappealing qualities, using her fingers to count them off. "He has a huge ego, he's kind of a control freak, and his name is Bernie. Bernie _Luc_as. Neither of those names makes me think of anything good right now," she persists.

"What does his name have to do with going out for dinner or something?" Traci asks, genuinely confused. "I'm not suggesting you marry the guy; just go out on one date."

"Trace, I'm really just not that interested in dating right now. I need to focus on getting my life together," Andy insists.

"You keep saying that, but I really think it would be a good thing. It'll help you to move on; get you 'back in the saddle'," she adds with a laugh.

"I _have_ moved on. I am soooo over Luke," Andy insists, ignoring her best friend's bad pun.

"If you're so over him, then what's the harm in getting _under_ somebody else?" Traci asks, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"Really, Traci?" Andy scowls, starting to get slightly annoyed.

"What? I'm just saying, I bet he could provide a good aerobic workout. Hey, it would be better exercise than those stupid yoga classes you're always raving about," she mocks.

"Those classes are not stupid! They are really good for stress," Andy insists. She takes a breath, shakes her head and switches gears. "I can't believe that _you_ of all people are encouraging me to do this. I _told_ you I am off cops," Andy maintains. "Besides, you know how I feel about, um, the… _situation_."

"Ah, I get it." Traci smiles when the light bulb goes off in her mind. "It's not about the date, but rather who it's with."

"We are done talking about this," Andy stresses while looking at Traci pointedly and slamming her locker door shut. "No dates. With _anyone._"

"Okay, if you say so," Traci says with disbelief. She smiles knowingly the entire time she follows her friend to the parade room for their morning briefing.

.

* * *

.

Andy grabs the utility bag and makes her way out to the squad car to find Sam leaning up against it, waiting for her. Once she shoves the bag in the back, he hands her a piping hot cup of coffee, made just the way she likes it.

"Thank you," she exclaims, blowing air through the cut out of the lid to cool it off a bit. "I really needed this."

"Good to have you back, McNally." He walks over to the driver's side and yanks the door open. When he looks up at her, he smiles and shoots her a wink.

She smiles brightly at him in return. "Good to be back." She winks before slipping into her own seat.

It's a fairly easy day out on patrol. Sam and Andy answer a few minor calls, grab some lunch and scan the streets. With their easy flow of conversation, and a few bad jokes from Sam, Andy easily forgets what she and Traci were debating about that same morning. That is, until they are nearly done with shift and Sam asks a question that snaps it right back to the forefront.

"So, how was the equine training?

"It was good, I guess. Different, yet… not," she answers elusively.

"How's that?" Sam questions.

"I mean, I thought it'd be fun, fresh air, change of scenery and all, but my T.O. there was just as much of a hard ass as the one I have here," Andy teases while giving him a stubborn look.

"Is that so?" Sam asks, amused. "Did you give him just of a hard time as you do me?"

"I do not give you a hard time!" Andy insists, "Well, not on purpose, anyway."

"Mm-hhmm," Sam hums, like he doesn't believe a word she is saying.

"It's true," she maintains. "Besides, I must not have irritated him as much as I do you, because he actually wants to spend more time with me," she huffs. Then, just to see his reaction, she confesses, "He asked me out."

Sam schools his features, tries to hide the irritation that he suddenly feels scratching at his bones, but can't help the contempt that seeps through his sarcastic reply. "A Bambi and a horse guy, how fitting."

"Very funny," Andy spits out nastily. Then, softer, in a way that somehow always makes him feel like a jerk, "You know, I really wish you'd stop calling me that. I'm not a rookie anymore, Sam."

He cringes at her tone but still, he defends himself. "That's only the second time I've ever called you that." Then, because he knows that he upset her and wants to make it right, he adds, "You're right though. You're not a rookie anymore. I'm sorry."

She gives him a weak smile. "It's okay." Then, she adds with a mock glare, "Don't let it happen again, or I might think up a good name or two to call you."

"I'm curious to hear what you'd come up with," he chuckles, relieved that she didn't actually start to pout. He clears his throat and forces himself to ask, "So, you gonna go?"

Andy decides to play at obtuse. "Go where?"

"Out with him," Sam clarifies through gritted teeth.

"I haven't decided yet," she says with a shrug. "I mean, Traci thinks I should, but I don't know if I'm up for all of _that_ again."

"All of what?"

"Dating. The whole 'getting to know you' spiel, trying to be flirty and impressive – it's a lot of work," she explains. "Plus, like, first kisses? They can be downright nerve-wracking."

Sam shakes his head. "You get yourself into near death experiences once a week, but you're afraid of a little kissing?"

"Duh, not of kissing in general, just of _first_ kisses. They are stressful, I'm telling you. You spend the whole night deciding if you even want the guy to kiss you, and then you go through the whole 'will he or won't he' panic, on top of worrying about if your breath is okay and stuff," she rambles on, insistently. "It can be very stressful - and awkward."

Sam gives her a disbelieving look, eyebrows raised high.

"What?" she questions.

"Nothing," Sam replies, as cool as can be. "Nothing at all."

"Tell me," she demands petulantly.

"I was just thinking- you didn't seem all that nervous or shy when you knocked on my door and kissed me for the first time," he reminds her.

She narrows her eyes at his smug smile. "Not the point. Besides," she says defensively, "that wasn't really a first kiss."

"I know I'm getting older, but I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if you'd kissed me before then," he retorts.

"That's not what I mean."

"So are you saying we _didn't_ kiss?" God, how he loves to see the blush that comes to her cheeks when he puts her on the spot.

"We _did_, but, you know, it was just…" she trails off, delicately trying to find the right explanation without inadvertently triggering any minefields.

"Just what?" Sam asks again, his tone nearly daring her to say something to set him off.

"Just… whatever. It was what it was," she responds, snidely.

Sam winces pretty hard at that one. He guesses that he deserved it. "I guess it was," is all he could respond, his voice flat with disdain and regret.

"I'm just saying, shut up about it. It didn't really count as a first kiss, okay?" Andy declares adamantly.

"Okay," Sam says quickly.

"I'm just saying…" Andy starts again, softer, "A real first kiss is like, when you go out on a date, end of the night kind of thing, you know? That's all I meant."

"Okay," Sam repeats.

Neither of them says anything for a while after that, and the awkward silence becomes deafening. The tension is nearly palpable as the pair ride around for what seems like an eternity, both blatantly avoiding the looming elephant in the cruiser.

Finally, Sam clears his throat and breaks the silence. "Maybe you should," he states matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?"

"Go. On the date," Sam elaborates. "I think you should go."

Andy blinks, once and hard. "Oh yeah, and why's that?"

"Go out, have some fun, get back in the game," he explains. "It'll help."

"Help what?" Andy snaps.

_Help us move this process along_, he screams at her in his head. When he doesn't say anything immediately, she plows right on.

"Are you implying that there's something _wrong_ with me?"

"Relax," he says, soothingly. "I just meant that it could be good for you."

Dating someone else is pretty much the last thing Sam wants to encourage her to do. At this point, though, he is itching to try to make a go of it with her, and he wants to make sure. If he is going to take a chance and put his heart on the line, he needs to know she is one hundred percent in it for the long haul; no regrets, no looking back. He couldn't stand to be a rebound guy.

"Oh really?" Andy asks, "Is that what you think I need?"

She's somewhat aware of the fact that each word she spits out is dripping with sarcasm and a hint of hurt, but in this moment she really, really doesn't care. A date is the last thing she needs right now, at least one with a stranger. She _has_ moved on, and to have everyone doubting that, makes her feel like some sort of weak woman; a victim of sorts who can't manage her own emotions.

Sam shrugs in response to her bitter questioning, resigned. "Maybe."

"Fine," she says, peeved. "_Maybe_ I will."

Inwardly, Andy is reeling over his suggestion. She had thought that by sharing the date invitation with Sam, he might've been motivated enough to finally make a move on her. But, no. There he sits, right next to her, stoic and as unaffected as ever; pushing her, _once again_, into someone else's arms. Maybe she is constantly misreading the vibe that flows steady between them. Maybe he really just isn't interested, after all. '_He's just not that into you'_ her brain shouts at her, like a curse.

"Good," Sam responds, his tone equally as churlish.

Neither one says another word to each other for the rest of the shift.

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* * *

**.**

"I'm thinking about going on that date after all," Andy announces, as she shoves her uniform into her locker at the end of the day.

"Oh yeah?" Traci questions with a skeptical look on her face, "What changed your mind?"

"You made a convincing argument this morning," Andy lies. "Plus, other people think it would be a good idea, too, so…" she trails off with an indifferent shrug.

"What other people?" Traci questions.

"Just some… other… people," Andy says, willing Traci to read between the lines.

"Ah," Traci realizes, "Swarek still pulling the 'too cool to care' card?"

Andy frowns at her friend and glances around the mostly empty locker room before giving her a marginal nod that lets her know that she's got it exactly right.

Gail, who emerges from the shower right at that time, speaks up. "Ugh, why don't you just do Swarek and get it over with already? It would put you both, and all of us, out of this misery."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Andy says, trying to fake ignorance.

"Right," Gail mocks in her usual, sarcastic and indifferent tone while rolling her eyes. "And Dov's the coolest person in the room. Seriously, if you two ever actually admitted how you felt about each other, I think I'd die from shock."

"Well, that'd be reason enough," Andy shoots back just as sarcastically.

"Ooh, feisty," Gail hisses. Andy simply rolls her eyes in response.

"Whatever, you know it's true," Gail maintains.

Andy turns to Traci for support, but Traci only shrugs and hides her head inside of her locker.

Gail finishes dressing quickly and heads toward the door. "See you at the Penny." She bids them goodbye in a sickeningly sweet voice. Just before she rounds the corner of the doorway, she turns back. "He likes you, you know, and he is actually a decent guy. Don't screw it up." Although her voice is warm and friendly, it would be impossible to ignore who exactly she's referring to, as well as the warning tone underneath the sentiment.

At that exact moment, Andy's phone vibrates with a new text message.

_**Bernie Lucas:**__ Just got off shift. Headed out for drinks at 'Grindhouse'. Would be honored if you joined me tonight. _

Andy texts him back:

_ Sorry, can't. Headed to The Black Penny with some friends. _She hesitates, debating whether or not to add more. She thinks of Sam and Traci and decides: to hell with it._ 'You're welcome to come' _she adds, quickly pressing send before she can change her mind.

There, it's out there. Not an actual date acceptance or invitation, just a casual suggestion for hanging out. If Traci and Sam were so insistent that she should date, it shouldn't be a bad thing that she throws the invitation out there to see what happens. _Bait in the water_, she thinks, but isn't exactly sure who she's trying to lure.

She smiles at Traci and follows her out the back door, to her car en route to the Black Penny.

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* * *

.

Sam is ridiculously relieved when Andy walks through the door of the Penny. Her grey shirt against her black, form fitting jeans show off all of her curves, and to top it all off, she is wearing makeup. Makeup or not, she is drop dead gorgeous. Plus, he is instantly fifty times happier over the fact that that she's alone. No date she spoke of earlier doting along behind her. She takes her normal seat amongst the rookies and raises a glass of beer in salute to 'another day, another dirt bag'.

Sam sits back, and exhales, relieved.

The relief, however, is short lived when he watches tall-dark and handsome stroll through the door and make a beeline straight towards Andy. He lets out a humorless chuckle and shakes his head. It shouldn't be a surprise. He damn near dared her to go on a date with the guy- a guy that was not him. Idiot.

Sam's outward appearance seems as calm, cool and collected as usual, but in reality, his eyes were beginning to burn holes through the mirror behind the bar, which reflects each move Andy and her so called date make.

He feels his muscles stiffen, and his jaw tighten with each and every centimeter they advance toward each other. He could really use a distraction right now, but Jerry's still on a case, and Oliver's home, on best behavior trying to return to Zoe's good graces. He's not exactly sure why Frank and Noelle haven't been around much lately.

So, the guy is nice enough, Andy thinks. He's good looking, has spent almost the hour that he's been there talking about work and has this kind of arrogant air about him. Basically, he reminds her a little of Luke – and not in a good way. She excuses herself, under the premise of getting more drinks, while he is deep in conversation with Chris and Dov about the importance of mounted unit police officers.

Really, she just needs to get away from the guy for a few minutes.

"McNally," Sam acknowledges her with a rueful smile when she slides up next to him, signaling for the bartender.

"Oh, hey," she returns, like she just realized he was sitting there.

"Having a good time?" Sam questions warily.

"Yep," she answers, looking anywhere but at him.

When she finally looks over, he has his eyebrows raised high, the way he does when he doesn't believe her. "Oh, yeah?" Sam questions, "Because you're frowning."

"I am not," she argues and rolls her eyes.

"So, uh," Sam throws his head over his shoulder quickly and looks back at her, "Is that your date?"

"Uh-huh." She nods, and then throws back at him, "Why you want to meet him?"

"I, uh, think I'll pass," Sam says bitterly. He eyes the guy again, sizing him up one more time and then asks her, "So that's the horse instructor guy?"

"Yeah, so?" she questions defensively, preparing herself for some snide remark.

"Nothing. Good." Sam takes a long sip of his drink. "So, how's it going?"

"Fine. Good. Great," she says immediately and all at once. _She_ _always has been a terrible liar._

"He seems nice, respectable," Sam hedges.

"Yeah, like I said, he's nice," she says weakly. Sam raises one eyebrow to silently call her bluff and her façade instantly crumbles. "Okay, and maybe also a little boring and self-centered," she whispers conspiratorially.

"Ah, just your type," Sam quips.

"Shut up," Andy demands, as she slaps his forearm. She can't help but to laugh along with him, though.

"Well, good luck with that," Sam says as he begins to stand.

Andy grabs his arm to stop him from getting up completely. "Where are you going?" she asks, nervously.

Sam glances down quickly at the place where both of her hands remain wrapped around his forearm and can't help but smile. "I'm hungry, McNally. I'm going to get something to eat."

"Eat something here," she encourages him. And yup, there is definitely a hint of pleading in her voice. She's not exactly sure why she wants or needs him to stay so badly, but she_ does. _

"Uh, as much as I'm enjoying the show," Sam says sarcastically, "Nachos and hot wings for dinner really isn't my style." _And I'd rather not have it come back up my throat watching you with another guy. _

"No, yeah, of course," Andy agrees, shaking her head as she backs away and finally releases the grip she has on his arm.

Sam narrows his eyes and takes in all of her over exaggerated gestures along with the uneasy look in her eye. Before he can think better of it, he hears himself ask, "What? You want to come with me?"

"No, I mean, yeah," she stutters, "I mean, no. I can't, obviously."

"Well are you hungry or not?"

"I _am_," she stresses. "But you know," she says gesturing towards the rookie table, "I can't just like… leave."

"He hasn't seemed to notice that you've been gone this long," Sam says with a shrug. "Up to you."

"Well it's not like it was _really_ a date…" Andy admits coyly.

"Meet you at the truck in a few," is all Sam says before he tosses some money on the bar and heads for the exit.

Andy escapes to the bathroom to think for a second. She studies her appearance in the mirror, futzes with her hair and re-applies her lip gloss. Then she rolls her eyes at herself. _What the hell is she doing? _She takes a few deep, steadying breaths before she yanks the door open and heads back to her table.

Dov jumps all over her immediately. "Where the hell is the beer?"

_Crap. She forgot to order the drinks_. "Um, yeah, see the thing is, I've got to go," she answers nervously, sidestepping Dov's question.

"Go?" Bernie, her date, asks confused.

"Yeah. Sorry, my dad called, I really need to go help him out with something that can't wait," she lies.

"Do you need a ride?" he offers, standing up.

"Um, no. I called a cab. Thank you though. I'm just gonna," she hitches her thumb over her shoulder, "go now." She gives one quick wave of her hand, "Bye everyone."

"Good luck with your _dad_," Traci says, smiling from ear to ear. "Call me later… or … tomorrow, yeah?

"Yep," Andy calls out, already headed for the door. "Later."

Flustered, she scrambles into the passenger's side of Sam's truck and slams the door behind her. She looks over at him and exhales loudly.

He can't keep the smug, dimpled grin off his face when he asks, "So, what do you want?"

She blinks up at him, "What do you mean?" Sometimes she swears he deliberately asks questions with multiple meanings. And why the hell is she suddenly so nervous around him?

His dimples deepen as his smile widens. "Food, McNally. What are you in the mood for?"

"Oh. I… I'm up for anything," she responds as he puts the truck in gear and begins to back out of the parking spot.

"Up for anything," Sam repeats, slowly, like he's debating what exactly she means by that. "You sure?"

Andy really doesn't know if they are still talking about food or not, but it doesn't matter because she is with him. She figures that there really is only one answer to that question. "Absolutely."

.

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_**E/N:**__**Please let me know what you thought. If you want to read more, I can have the 2**__**nd**__** and final part up tomorrow.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**__** I need to take this opportunity to give each and every one of you who reviewed, alerted and favorite my sincere thanks. I honestly was very unsure whether or not to even post this story yesterday. Your overwhelming response left me bowled over. Thank you. **_

_**Extra special 'thank you's' to MegEvans1983 and kitkat2010 for their advice, support and encouragement. **_

_**As promised, here is the 2**__**nd**__** installment, within 24 hours. **_

_**Disclaimer- If I was affiliated with RB in any way, I'd be out throwing a big ole Season 4 renewal party that everyone'd want to have.**_

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A few minutes later, they pull up in front of a cozy little Italian joint in the neighborhood - one of those mom and pop places, half pizzeria and half restaurant. Sam shifts the gear to 'park' and nods towards the place.

"This okay?" he asks.

"Perfect," Andy agrees. She halfway expected him to pull up to some sort of drive-thru, before shoving her out of the door in front of Traci's, in a rush to get rid of her for the night.

Andy starts to head towards one of the dinky little tables near the pizza counter when Sam grabs her elbow, stopping her. "You in some sort of rush, McNally?"

"No," Andy looks at him, confused. "Why?"

"Well, if it's okay with you," he says half sarcastically, "I'd like to sit down and enjoy my dinner, not just grab a slice and go." He jerks his head toward the restaurant side and begins to lead her over before she can even respond.

Andy nods and follows him. "Um, yep. Okay."

They decide on a cozy little booth in the far back corner, take their jackets off and settle in comfortably across from each other. The waitress idles over, and it is obvious that she recognizes Sam, if the way she greets him, smiles at him and practically drools all over him is any indication. She honestly doesn't even look Andy's way when she hands them the menus.

"_Friend_ of yours?" Andy asks stiffly, failing to keep the jealousy out of her tone.

Sam shrugs. "Come here every now and again," is all he offers.

"I've never been here before," Andy states the obvious, looking around at the traditional décor. "It seems nice."

A moment later, the waitress returns, smiling at Sam, her back facing Andy. "Have you decided what you'd like to drink yet?"

Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Andy interrupts. "_I'd_ like a glass of the house Pinot Noir," she says curtly.

The waitress glances back at Andy briefly, finally noticing that she was there. "And for you, sir?" she inquires in the sweetest tone possible.

"That sounds good," Sam agrees. "Just bring the bottle."

"Right away, sir," the waitress winks as she sashays away.

"Geeze." Andy rolls her eyes. "I mean, could she be any more obvious?" she asks, annoyed.

"About what?" Sam's eyebrows scrunch together with confusion.

"Flirting with you," Andy responds. "Come on, Sam, the way she was smiling at you, batting her fake eyelashes, not realizing that I was even sitting here…"

"Jealous, McNally?" he asks, not even trying to hold back his signature smirk.

"What? No!" she fumbles. Then she sees the playful look on his face. "You wish," she retaliates confidently.

"If you say so," Sam responds, his eyes shining with mirth.

"It's just… She's just…" she blows out an irritated breath.

"Just what?" Sam prompts.

"She's _rude,_ is what she is," Andy finally decides on.

"Rude?"

"Yeah!" Andy insists. "How does she know that we're not on a date or something?" She shakes her head and looks down at the menu, missing the amused smirk that momentarily takes residence on Sam's face.

A moment later, the server brings over the bottle of wine and pours out two glasses. "Have you had a chance to decide what you'd like?" she addresses Sam once again.

He looks over at Andy, who is currently scowling into her menu. "We just need another minute or two," Sam answers, still grinning.

The waitress nods. "Be back in just a second, doll," she says before heading over to another table.

"Rude," Andy repeats. "Tell me you didn't notice _that_."

He turns his head once, quickly and unconcerned. "Eh, she's not my type."

Andy snorts. "I've heard that one before."

"Yeah, well," he shrugs. When he continues, his tone is noticeably softer. "_This_ time I mean it."

Andy whips her head up to look at him, but he is already looking towards the server, who is on her way back to their booth to take their orders. Okay… moment over then, she guesses.

"Here," she says, while thrusting a piece of Italian bread his way, without bothering to ask if he wants it.

"Thanks." He takes the slice from her hand, and when their fingers brush, she quickly reaches for the butter in an attempt to try to ignore the palpable spark that passes between them.

"Well, your date seemed really interesting," Sam drawls out after a minute or two. "Riding around on a horse for ten hours a day must be really fascinating."

"Ugh," Andy groans. She knew he wasn't going to let her off that easily.

"No really," he goes on, "I bet you can't wait to see him again."

"Shut up," she grumbles, but can't keep the humor from her tone or the smile from her face.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, McNally," Sam taunts.

"Thanks," Andy deadpans, looking up from her menu. "That, coming from a man who hasn't been in a relationship since I met him."

"Maybe I've just been waiting for the right girl to finally come around," Sam responds softly, while looking straight into her eyes.

This time, Andy's not sure whether she should be grateful or annoyed when they are interrupted by the arrival of their entrees. They work as well together at the dinner table as they do on the streets; Andy wordlessly passes him a knife when he looks for one, Sam hands her the grated cheese before she can ask for it.

She sits and stares at him, studies his features and revels in just how normal this whole scene is. Sure, they've eaten together while out on patrol before, stopped for a quick breakfast after a night shift or two, but somehow this is different - comfortable and familiar, yet new and exciting all at the same time.

She takes a sip of water to cool her hormones off a bit before she starts on her Pasta Bolognese. '_This is not a date' _she reminds herself, twining the strands around her fork. _No matter how badly she wants it to be. _

"So," Sam drawls out, taking in Andy's expression, as she slurps her spaghetti. He's caught off guard when her tongue slides across her lower lip, licking away a stray drop of sauce. Sam feels his mouth go dry when Andy looks up from her plate, right into his eyes.

"What?" she asks after half a minute. "Do I have something on my face?" Andy's smiling now, pretty pleased with herself for having caught him staring for once.

Sam's about to say something sarcastic to deflect, when he notices that, yes, actually she does. It's just a small spot of sauce on her cheek, probably splashed off from a strand of pasta.

"Actually…" he uses his hand to gesture at his own face, trying to clue her in to the general vicinity of where the sauce is on her. "Just a little…"

Now, Andy's really embarrassed. She thought she was being all smug and cute, when really she is sitting there like a fool with food on her face. _Great_.

She lifts the napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth and looks back at Sam. "Did I get it?"

"Nope, a little higher."

And now he is laughing at her. _Just great_. Whatever, it's not like Sam's never seen her do something embarrassing before, hell, she thinks, half of the time he sets her up for it.

She tries again, mindful of her make-up and when she looks to him again, he shakes his head in the negative. She brings the napkin up a third time when she notices Sam shift.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, McNally," he chuckles, half standing to lean over the table. "C'mere." He uses one hand to brace the table and reaches the other one to her head. "Hold still," he instructs as he cups the side of her face in his hand. Andy holds her breath, paralyzed by the intimacy of the gesture. Their eyes lock, focused intently on each other, while he brushes one thumb over her cheek, wiping away the sauce. "That's better," his deep voice echoes after a beat. He makes no immediate move to sit back though.

In that moment, Andy is honestly contemplating if she should give into the overwhelming urge to lean into his touch, maybe even move in closer towards him. At this point, who cares if they are in the middle of a restaurant or not? Seriously.

"Is everything okay over here? Is there anything else I can get for you, Sir?"

_Oh, for the love of—_"We're fine," Andy snaps icily at the waitress as Sam settles back in his seat. She's starting to think that this chick is interrupting them on purpose now. The waitress saunters away; seems like she finally bought a clue. She relaxes again and looks back at Sam. "What?" she questions his skyrocketing eyebrows.

"I always thought your eyes were light brown, McNally," he responds coolly. "Never noticed them turn that shade of green before."

She rolls her eyes, embarrassed at her own jealous outburst, and reaches for her wine. When he starts laughing at her, she scowls at him dramatically and stabs a piece of chicken parm off of his plate.

"By all means," he says, still smiling. "Help yourself."

They eat quietly for a while, simply enjoying the atmosphere and each other's company. All of a sudden, Sam finds the quiet, well... disquieting. He used to love the sound of silence and now, as much as he hates to admit it, he misses hearing the sound of McNally's voice. He actually wants to listen to her ramble on about things he has absolutely no interest in - the other rookies, Nash's kid, her dad, whatever – he just wants to get her to talk.

"Did you find a new place yet?" He's happy that he thought up a topic he actually does care about.

"Nope, not yet," Andy sighs out in frustration.

"What's the problem?" Sam asks. He really hopes that her not finding a new place to move in to doesn't mean that she's not ready to move on.

"Nothing. I just haven't really had much free time, and then when I do, I have to wait until my dad's or Traci's car is available, so…" she shrugs.

"Anytime you need a ride, just call," Sam volunteers.

Andy is shaking her head before he's even done with the sentence. "No, that's alright. Thank you, though."

"I mean it, Andy," he assures her. "I wouldn't mind giving you a hand."

"Are you offering to be my chauffer?" Andy giggles.

"Aren't I every day, anyway?"

"Hey!" Andy protests. "That's your fault; you never let me drive!"

They both laugh, and Andy thinks back to the last time she checked out places to live. It's possible she wouldn't mind 'checking out some places together' with Sam, especially if he keeps smiling at her the way that he is right now. She feels her cheeks begin to warm at the imagery.

"Well, the truck would be handy," Andy teases. "I might be able to think of something to do with you, too."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd think of something," Sam agrees. He has to consciously stop his thoughts from going astray there for a minute.

"Well, I have seen you work with tools before." She smiles, thinking back to the time he helped fix Marie D'Abramo's sink. "Maybe I'll put some of that handyman knowledge to good use."

"Are you asking me to check out your plumbing, McNally?" Sam gibes, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

"Shut up," Andy laughs, while using her foot to kick at his leg under the table. "You are such an adolescent sometimes."

Sam only shrugs in response. He knows that he can be.

"Ugh, I really do need to get out of Traci's though," Andy sighs. "Sometimes it can get pretty uncomfortable."

"How do you mean?" Sam questions.

"Well, on the weekends that Traci's ex has Leo, Jerry comes over," she admits scrunching her nose.

"What's the matter with Jerry?" he asks, confused. "He's a good guy."

"No, I know he is. I just mean…" Andy huffs and rolls her eyes, "They don't usually make the type of noises that you want to fall asleep to."

"Ah, I get it," Sam says exaggeratedly. "Here I thought, that maybe he said he was prettier than you."

"Shut up," she laughs.

She goes to kick him under the table again, but this time he anticipates the move, and catches her leg. Instinctively, he rubs his thumb a bit over the bone in her ankle; her eyes fly to his. The air crackles between them, charged with that familiar, delicious tension. He slowly releases his hold on her, and she takes the opportunity to hide her blush behind her napkin, under the guise of wiping her face. Her leg is still tingling.

Sam clears his throat. "You, uh, want some dessert?" he asks, politely.

"No, I'm good," Andy decides. She figures that if she sits across from him in that restaurant for one more second, she is either going to combust or do or say something totally stupid. She needs – no, _they _need - to get out of there.

Sam signals for the check and Andy makes a move for her wallet, but he waives her off. "Next time," he declares, pulling a few bills from his wallet.

Andy can't help but smile. _Next time_. It's possible she wouldn't mind that.

"You ready to go then?"

"Yep."

"Then let's go," he offers, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Sam's not exactly sure what he's going to do with her once they leave. He knows what he _wants_ to do with her, but that scenario is pretty unlikely, he figures. All he knows is that he really doesn't want to take her back to Nash's just yet. He needs to come up with a plan to spend more time with her.

Now that they've decided to leave, Andy feels a fluttering erupt in her stomach. She's not sure if its nerves or anticipation or what, all she knows is that it's like nothing she's ever felt before. Not on her first ever date, not with her serious boyfriend from college, not even with Luke, and sure as shit not with Bernie Lucas. But this is Sam. _Sam_. It's different with him, always has been. In that moment she's not sure if she wants to faint or puke or…

Who's she kidding? What she _wants_ to do is jump him right there in that restaurant. But she can't do that. No, she needs to keep cool, take her time, go slow. She needs _this _to work out. Because, Sam? Sam is so _not _a rebound.

Andy jumps out of her seat like a fully wound jack- in -the -box and turns around to grab her purse. She eyes the wine glass that's still half-full, or half-empty she guesses, depending on how you see it.

_'Liquid courage'_, she thinks, snatching it off of the table. She holds the wine glass up, considering the pros and cons of downing it in one gulp. A second later, it doesn't matter, because Sam calls her name and she spins around quickly, which causes her to bump into him. Suddenly the glass isn't half anything - it's empty - and the wine is spilled all over Sam's shirt. _Like she said:_ _just great._

"Oh my gosh, Sam, I'm so sorry!" Andy exclaims. She immediately grabs a napkin from the table and begins to blot furiously at the stain.

Sam looks down at himself, shocked, then back up to her. "Is that a nice way to say thank you for dinner?"

"I didn't know you were there, and I just turned around and…"she rambles nervously, still working on his shirt.

He puts his large hand over hers, grabbing it to stop her fidgeting. "It's fine, Andy; relax."

She finally looks up at him and their eyes lock. They are both very aware of their proximity, and the fact that that he is basically holding her hand to his chest. Momentarily lost in each other's gaze, they barely register the "Excuse us" that comes from a new set of patrons trying to pass them.

Sam recovers first and moves out of the way. He hands Andy her jacket, shrugs his on and heads toward the exit. When he looks back, Andy is still kind of just standing there, absently futzing with the buttons on her jacket.

Sam smirks as he calls back to her. "You coming, clutz?"

She scowls at him but immediately follows. She wrinkles her nose and pokes her tongue out at him as she walks through the door he's holding open for her.

.

* * *

.

Ten minutes later, they pull up in front of his place.

"What are we doing here?" Andy asks, nervously.

"I'm going to get cleaned up," Sam explains, turning the engine off. "I can't be driving around smelling like a wino."

Andy watches, wide-eyed as he pulls his keys from the ignition. "And you want me to come up with you?"

"Need my keys to open the door," Sam says slowly, like she's lost her mind. "You're welcome to come up if you want, or you can stay here and freeze." He shrugs, nonchalant. "Your choice."

Andy sits there for at least another minute, legitimately debating whether or not she should follow him inside. The decision is made for her when Sam yanks open the passenger's door, grabs her wrist, and gently pulls her out.

"Come on, McNally," he coaxes, chuckling at the nervous look on her face. He also doesn't drop her wrist until they are at his door.

The minute he enters the doorway, he throws his bag down, puts his mail on the table and flings his jacket onto the nearest armchair. He rips his tee shirt off immediately after that and heads to the kitchen to grab something to wipe the stickiness off of his chest. He wets a paper towel, quickly dampens it with the faucet, and starts to clean himself up. When he looks her way, she is definitely staring.

"McNally," he calls, amusedly.

Her eyes immediately snap back up to his. "What was that?" she squeaks, thinking that she may have missed something he's said. She may be a little embarrassed about being caught looking, but hey, he's the one who stripped in front of her. _Again_. Besides that, has he been working out lately?

"I was about to tell you to help yourself to a water or something from the 'fridge," he answers. He's trying to hold back his amusement, but when her eyes drift down once again while he's speaking, he can't resist the urge to tease her a bit. "Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's rude to stare?"

"I wasn't staring," she says immediately, squaring her shoulders and looking him right in the eye, defiantly.

"Would ogling be a more appropriate word then?" he sasses smoothly as he begins towards her, his stride slow and deliberate.

"I just thought you missed a spot," she blurts out, feeling twenty types of stupid. When he finally stops close enough that the tips of their shoes are practically touching, he looks straight into her eyes.

"Yeah?" he questions, using that low, husky voice that sends her pulse racing, "Where?"

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, trying to figure out a way to answer him, but the truth of the matter is that her brain quit working the second his shirt came off. Right now she has to focus all of her energy into actually remembering to breathe. She looks down at him once again and brings her hand up.

"Here," Andy whispers, as she slowly slides her hand up his stomach to the center of his broad chest, and moves in a little closer. She can feel his breath quicken with the rise and fall of his sternum. When she looks back up, into his eyes, they've unmistakably gotten considerably darker and she thinks she might be able to melt under his gaze alone.

"Andy…" he tries to warn her, gently. Then he feels her thread her fingers through his chest hair and tug at it just the tiniest bit.

Sam only hesitates for a second before he lowers his head and kisses her, softly. His lips move against hers with such a delicate finesse and slow deliberation that it could nearly be considered reverent. '_Finally' _his brain sighs_. _He stops suddenly, and looks at her, his dark eyes searching hers. When he sees invitation, wanting and desire in her eyes, he dips his head again to capture her mouth with his.

The second his lips touch hers, everything inside of Andy just relaxes. All she can think in that moment is _'Yes. This.'_ This is what she has been waiting for; this is what she needs. Honestly, this is all she's ever wanted – this feeling; this man.

After a year of beating around the bush, hiding, running away - she's finally here. Here, engulfed in the arms of _this_ man, the one she's always wanted; the one who almost got away. Andy whimpers, as she feels Sam tighten his hold on her; his strong arms wrapped around her in the most protective way, never wanting to let her go. _This_ is what it's all about.

They kiss lazily for a few minutes more, reveling in the taste of each other's mouths, the feel of each other's lips, the caress of each other's hands. When Andy feels Sam's mouth start to move against her neck, and his hand inch upward from her waist, something unfurls inside of her in the best possible way.

"Sam," she gasps and clings to the muscles in his back for support as she kicks off her shoes. "Sam." When he hums against her collarbone in response, her hands reactively fly to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his thick hair. "Bedroom."

He tears his mouth from her skin for a second and searches her eyes again. He sees no hesitation, no fear, no regret; nothing but longing, desire and need shine through.

Still, he has to ask. "You sure?"

She smiles sweetly and nods gently as she kisses him once again. When she pulls back, he swipes the tip of his nose against hers and bends slightly to pick her up and carry her down the hall.

.

* * *

.

"I've got to say," Andy states through labored breaths, "that was one hell of a first kiss."

"Oh, so that one counted, huh?" Sam asks, playfully, while trying to get ahold of his own breathing and shifting onto his side to get a better view of her.

"Well," Andy shrugs, "You did buy me dinner." Shifting her body towards his as well, she continues. "Plus, it was really good."

"Yeah?" Sam asks more seriously than he intends to. "The dinner or the kiss or…"

"Everything," she cuts him off, reassuringly. "All of it."

He uses his arms around her waist to pull her even closer to him before he kisses her quickly, once again. "Just good?" he goads her.

"I think I said 'really good'," she teases him around a giggle.

His only response is to pull her in and kiss her again, passionately. She looks directly into his eyes when they break apart. The intensity of the way he's staring back at her, well - Andy is pretty sure she's never felt so… _valued_ before.

"Best first kiss ever," she whispers, emphatically, into his ear.

Sam leans down into her again, and brushes his nose over hers once more. Then he whispers something against her lips that reaches all the way to her belly. Her heart. Every fiber of her being.

He says it as a statement of fact, but to her, it sounds like a lot more.

Like a gentle warning.

Like a declaration.

Like a promise.

His warm breath tickles her chin and his husky inflection sends shivers down her back before his lips latch to hers once more.

"Your _last_ first kiss, McNally."

.

* * *

**.**

_**E/N: I had a really hard time writing the actual 'date' part of this, but I finally came up with something I hope did it justice. Let me know what you thought, please! **_

_**Thanks again!**_


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